


Retribution

by midgetnazgul



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:16:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midgetnazgul/pseuds/midgetnazgul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for a prompt on the Avengers kinkmeme.</p><p>Original prompt: <i>I want a fic where Avengers are captured, and Tony is tortured in front of them by villains taking his reactor out and not putting it back in until he's almost dead, several times. Tony gets through it, all angry and defiant and not giving in, but the rest of Avengers (especially Natasha, who had access to his files) is terrified. After they rescue themselves, Tony is all "I'm fine, nothing to see here, come along", but inside he's all fucked up because it's giving him Obediah flashback. They help him through it. (Gen or slash or het, no preference, as long as there's ALL THE H/C).</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                Tony came to in a painfully well-lit room. His involuntary attempt to shield his eyes was instantaneously impeded, as his arms were bound to his sides. A wiggle of his feet told him his legs were, as well. His blood took a dip in temperature, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t been through before. Once most of the irritation from the bright lights passed, he took the opportunity to take a look around. If he had to guess, he’d assume it was an abandoned hospital, given the staining of time and weather along the walls surrounding him. It had power, however; the light was coming from large, portable floodlights, and he was surrounded by modern medical equipment monitoring his vitals. There were also, inexplicably, speakers wired in off to his right, as well. Their mysterious presence increased his apprehension.

                To help calm himself, he struggled to remember where he had been before now in hopes of understanding how he’d gotten here. He’d been fighting with the team, that’s right. There’d been an explosion – the last thing he could recall was watching Thor and the Hulk doing their best to cover Clint, Natasha and Rodgers, but it had been a huge one, completely unexpected. In fact, where were they? If he was receiving medical attention, why was he restrained, and why was he separated from the others?

                “Stark,” a voice came over the speakers, making his blood run truly cold. It was Raza. With one word, he was back in that damned cave in Afghanistan; building the Mark I, the sensation of scraping from exposed wiring on Yinsen’s electromagnet tickling his chest, the claustrophobic heat and weight of the suit while the insurgent camp had exploded below him-

                The heart monitor next to him broke his thrall by screeching his elevated heart rate via alarm.

                “Good to see time and distance hasn’t dulled your impression of me,” Raza said with amusement evident in his voice. “I must say, your new associations make you a difficult man to corner, but I have had much time to prepare for such delicate work.”

                “I blew your sorry ass to kingdom come,” Tony retorted, “How the hell did you-“

                Raza laughed. “You don’t even know half of it. Stane, too, tried to do away with me, but duplicity and temporary alliances are common where I come from, and that has fostered my resourceful nature.  In fact, that is why we are here today. You have the dubious honor of being the longest-living man who has crossed me. My delay in your reckoning was necessitated by injury and a need to reestablish my presence, but that will make our time together all the more sweet. I will be down shortly, but I thought I would take this time to explain your situation. Your comrades are contained elsewhere, but don’t worry, they will be witness to our reunion, however distant. You will surely have noted cameras in the room,” Tony hadn’t, in fact, noticed; after a second look, he saw two in each corner in front of him.

                “Did you ever tell them what happened to you in Afghanistan? A personnel file can only convey so much,” Raza finished with venom in his tone. “I would try to replicate your pleas and cries myself to have them understand, but I figured what we’ll do today will be a better performance anyway. Now that everyone is up to speed, I will see you soon.”

\---------------

                Tightness around Steve’s chest was what woke him. Heavy bands of metal pinned him in an upright position, restrained by his limbs and along his torso. A quick look around revealed Clint and Natasha across from him, bound much the same way, and Thor on his right, head lolling back and forth lazily with even more restraints keeping him at bay. Finally, Bruce was off to his left, completely unconscious and with an IV attached to his arm.

                “Everybody okay?” He asked, straining as much as he could against the bars keeping him in place. Weak peeps of creaking metal was all he could accomplish.

                “Fine,” Natasha called.

                “Bored, but yeah,” Barton answered. Thor mumbled something unintelligible, concerning Steve. Natasha caught his eye.

                “You can’t see it from where you are, but they’ve got him hooked up to an IV, too. He seems to be fine, just…out of it.”

                “Thor,” Steve propositioned, taking extra care to speak slowly and articulately in the hopes the Asgardian would be able to understand, “can you call Mjolnir?”

                “Tried…cannot find it. Cannot feel where…”

                “Whatever they did, it’s scrambled his brain enough to keep him from finding the hammer. Smart,” Barton remarked caustically.

                “It should wear off soon enough, though, shouldn’t it?” Steve offered.

               “That’s the whole point of the IV…it’s a constant feed," Natasha explained, "Both Thor and Bruce have metabolisms like yours, you know. They’re probably both getting straight doses that would kill me or Clint. I mean, the bags will run out, sure, but it will be a couple of hours, at least.”

                “All right, fine,” Steve began, meaning to start forming a new strategy, before he realized something was amiss. “Wait…where’s Stark?” Clint and Natasha shared an uneasy look.

                “We don’t know,” Natasha finally responded.

                “He wasn’t here earlier, and I woke up before the rest of you. No one else has been in here,” Clint added.

                A crackle of feedback interrupted their conversation. A television Steve hadn’t noticed on the wall above Clint and Natasha’s heads flicked on, showing Tony in a restrained position in a hospital bed. A man began speaking over unseen speakers, referring to Tony as he’d introduced himself.

                “Stark? What the hell is this?” Tony began shouting at the unknown man, clearly unaware of his comrades’ eavesdropping. Steve looked back down to the assassins; he apparently had a screen above his own head, too, as their gazes were locked skyward. Willing himself to calm down, he listened to the man explain to Tony what was going on, before signing off to join him in person.

                “Please tell me this isn’t what it sounds like,” Steve asked rhetorically, struggling anew against his bonds in vain.

                “I think usage of the word ‘reckoning’ is pretty hard to ignore,” Clint snarked, though concern was bleeding into his expression.

                “Guys?” Tony’s voice again. “Guys, can you hear me? Come on, one of you has to be up by now.”

                “Yes, we can hear you,” Steve shouted up towards the ceiling. There was a frighteningly long pause.

                “Goddamn it, one-way. Well, I _really_ hope you’re listening, ‘cause I don’t want to look like an idiot talking at the room for nothing,” Tony said, before taking a deep breath. “Look, I pissed this guy off a long time ago, Romanoff knows about it, so he’s probably gonna have a temper tantrum on my face, or something. Nothin’ I haven’t done before, so just don’t worry about me and concentrate on getting out of here. And if you can do that before he kills me, that’d be awesome. I will take your silence as an acknowledgement, so if you don’t follow up, I’m gonna haunt your asses _hard_. You think I can irritate the hell out of you, wait until-”

                Tony’s voice was cut off when five men burst into the room, one of whom grabbed Tony by the neck and pushed a cloth into his face.


	2. Chapter 2

          Despite his horror at watching Tony struggle against his captors and listening to his muffled growling, he kept himself on-task enough to address Natasha.  
  
          “What does he mean, this isn’t anything he hasn’t done before?”  
  
          Natasha’s eyes went to the floor as she responded, “When I was given the assignment to be Stark’s secretary, I gained access to his file…the whole thing. That included his psych eval and full debriefs. What you received was a summary. Afghanistan is…where he became intimately aware of certain truths of the world.”  
  
          “Of course terrorists wanted him to show them how to make his weapons,” Clint said, still with rapt attention on the screen. The men were looking to their leader, who was walking out of the room. “It’s not like combatants in the Middle East are a bunch of rock-throwing idiots the media would have him believe,”  
  
          “That’s not what I mean. What you read described how he was instructed to make a Jericho missile, and instead created his first version of the suit – what it didn’t mention was he told them no, at first.” Realization dawned on both men’s faces.   
  
          “But he was a civilian, then,” Steve countered weakly. Clint and Natasha both responded only with a set of matching cynically raised eyebrows. Abruptly, Clint’s usual devil-may-care attitude completely vanished.  
  
          “Shit.” Their leader had reappeared, with what appeared to be a normal, everyday watering can. Natasha gasped when she followed Clint’s gaze up to the screen. The archer seemed to be turning slightly green as he continued to watch.  
  
          “Clint, maybe you shouldn’t-,” Natasha began. He cut her off with a sharp hiss. Just as Steve made to ask for clarification, he got his answer as the man with the watering can began pouring its contents directly over Tony’s fabric-stuffed mouth. The room they were trapped in became filled with the sounds of their comrade choking and spluttering. Clint’s breathing shallowed, and he began to sweat, but nonetheless he remained staring resolutely at Tony’s plight. Absorbed as he was in the task, he made no effort to hide the visceral fear softening his usually stoic expression. The few seconds water was actively being poured stretched into eternity until, finally, the watering can and cloth were pulled away.  
  
         “Turn to the side,” Clint mumbled to himself. “You gotta turn to the side or you won’t be able to breathe soon enough.”  
  
         "Clint, _calm down_ ," Natasha said slowly, trying to placate what looked a hell of a lot like a panic attack to Steve, "Clint, listen to me," she tried again, a little louder this time, "You're fine, and we'll make sure Stark gets out fine, too." It worked, somewhat; Barton blinked and shook his head fiercely, though shades of fear still hung in his eyes.  
  
         "I can handle it, Tasha." He recognized Steve's confusion, "Mission went bad one time, before I joined SHIELD. It was a long time ago, but something like that...sticks with you."  
  
         Tony had indeed flopped onto his side best as he could in his restraints, finishing his last spit-take of water with weak chuckling.  
  
         “Water again? You’d think a guy from the desert wouldn’t waste so much of the stuff. Isn’t it kind of hard to come by when you’re living out of caves?”  
  
         One of the men holding Tony’s right side threw a heavy punch into his ribcage; Stark grunted at the impact and rolled his neck once he recovered.  
  
         “Hey, don’t take it like that,” Tony coughed, “Cave living isn’t that bad, I did it for a while too, you know. Pretty cozy, once you get past the fear of imminent execution. I mean, I was raised in a multi-million-dollar household, and I found it comfortable enough to invent a superweapon and a free energy-” This time the leader hit him, straight on in the face, clearly breaking his nose, before having his subordinates stuff him with the cloth and soak him again.

\----------

          Gun to his head (and he really would prefer _that_ at the moment), he had to admit waterboarding was slightly less traumatic than the dunking had been. However, that could be because he knew Raza didn’t want information or weapons – he was just looking to scare him before he ultimately killed him. Perhaps he had simply gained a tolerance from the previous experience in Afghanistan. Or, maybe it was just some kind of perverse personal preference on Tony’s part; at the very least, knowing Raza was only looking to get off on his revenge fantasy took a considerable part of the edge off his torture. More than anything, it was painful, and Tony could deal with pain. That didn’t mean it didn’t require effort to reign in his panic when the water cycle started over again, but all things considered, he was still able to contain himself enough to plan between dousings how he could draw out the situation and give the others time to escape.

          And, well, it was going to take a _lot_ more effort to exhaust Tony’s predilection for sarcasm.

          “Look, man," he said, though his syllabry was dulled by the broken nose, "I know your street cred…or rather _cave_ cred is important to you militant types, but don’t put yourself down too hard over what happened. I mean, you guys never had a chance of being able to tell a Jericho missile from your right ass cheek – you were outclassed from the beginning. Surely the rest of your gun-toting buddies recognized that.”

          Raza, clearly incensed, leant forward again as if to lay into Tony’s face, but he paused abruptly. An unsettling smirk smoothed out the rage-induced wrinkles in his face.

          “Were you as clever as you claim to be, shouldn’t you have been able to spare Yinsen as well? Or did your rescue helicopter only have one spare seat?”

          Raza’s voice again returned him to the cave. He was standing over Yinsen’s bullet-riddled body, promising never to waste the last chance he would ever be given to do something with himself. Tony lunged forward against his handcuffs, rage involuntarily enveloping him at the mention of the dead doctor, memories and feelings flooding his mind.

          “You _murdered_ his will to live, you son of a bitch.”

          “Ahh, I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Yinsen’s assistance was required due to your…condition. He was not quick enough to act, and, due to your medically fragile state, I felt the need to give him _motivation_. So, really, it’s arguable that _you_ are responsible for his state of mind, as well as the events leading up to his corporeal death. All because of your petulance towards your friend,” Raza explained, his cruel smile expanding like the Cheshire cat’s as he spoke.

          There was no way to know if it was true. It could just as easily have been a conjured fiction, but the staggering amount of survivor’s guilt Tony already suffered from the ordeal easily annihilated any logic that could possibly soothe him. Yinsen never had explicitly told Tony what happened, and the story was very plausible. The inability to _know_ one way or another was the most horrifying part. Raza leant forward towards Tony’s face. One of his lackeys laid a forearm into Tony’s neck to keep him pinned and unable to retaliate.

          “ _There_ it is,” Raza said, the renewed grin twisting the scars on the side of his face, “Your fear. Not far below your taunts and ego is that same cowardice I saw all those years ago. I’ll grant you’ve gained quite a bit of skill in hiding it since we last met, but a flaw is a flaw, leaving even the most grandiose palace liable to collapse. One must simply find that one. Little. Pressure point.” He continued, tracing the outline of the arc reactor’s casing with a fingernail, just hard enough to scrape the skin alongside it.


End file.
